Unbreakable
by EvilBlackBunny
Summary: The woman sighed and rubbed her tired eyes. Her life would be a lot simpler if she'd been smart and left the car at the roadside.
1. Square One

Well, here we go again. No word limit, I'm just doing this one as practice.

Disclaimer: I don't own TFP or any lyrics used within.

/\/\/\

_**You can't hurt me, you can't scare me**_

_**Maybe I am the king of pain**_

_**You can't hurt me, you can't scare me**_

_**You will never be able to reach me**_

_**Who am I? What is 'me'? **_

_**I'm not a hero on this day**_

_**Who am I? What is 'me'?**_

_**I am a freak that will never break**_

_**/\/\/\**_

The city of Sunbury, Pennsylvania, wasn't anything interesting or exciting if you were driving through. It had a long history, but nothing most younger people would take much of an interest in, unless they lived there. It was nothing more than any other city, small but bustling and bustling yet cozy. A city surrounded by farmland and country folk had that feel to it.

The occasional Amish buggy was seen on the road. Most people who lived in the residing towns saw them as a common occurrence. They sold everything from eggs, to quilts, to hand crafted furniture. A staple of the community, though a little odd to people just passing through, like many were.

The local college was a place of pride for the neighboring city of Lewisburg. Bucknell, home of Bucky the Bison, and host to every sport under the sun. Being the largest private arts college in the nation didn't hurt, either, whatever that was good for.

The city, and its surrounding towns, if a bit boring for those who grew up in the hustle and bustle of a metropolis, were a peaceful place to live.

Well... until the wee hours of a certain Sunday morning.

Out of the blue and without a trace of reason, a car sat on the side of the road. It parked in a grass ditch, right in front of the local dairy farm. The car sat for a day, baking in the sun and getting coated in pollen. When the police were called about it, it wasn't because the car was on private property. Out there, most people wouldn't really _care_ about it, so long as it wasn't blocking traffic. They came because said vehicle was making the milk cows act funny.

By funny, the dairy owner meant that the damn bovines wouldn't come away from it for milking.

The cop that arrived on the scene was an older gentleman, graying at the temples and not easy to shake. He'd decided since his route home was on the same road the car was said to be, that he'd take on the duty of looking. He decided to just give it a once over, ignoring the friendly milk cows who were stretching their necks to sniff the seemingly abandoned car.

In all of twenty minutes, the older gentleman gave it the all clear. He found the car to be perfectly normal, and not a threat to anyone. His findings were simple: the car was a 2009 Mopar Challenger. It had a custom paint job of turquoise and indigo. The only things truly out of place was that there was no license plate to be seen, along with the odd scrawling on the windshield. The luminescent green paint spelled out a simple message for all to see:

_'U START HER U KEEP HER'_

The officer gave a chuckle and wiped his brow with the back of an arm. It was all more likely than not some prank by some of the college students. Bucknell was far from a party college, but there was nothing saying they couldn't pull a prank or two. Probably some boy's car, driven all the way out to their little city to give him a scare. The keys were probably out with the cows, under a couple inches of mud and pies. He'd been young once, he got the joke.

Still, it was his duty to report the odd vehicle.

He filled out a report, let the car be, and searched the database for the vehicle. No one claimed it. No reports came in about a missing vehicle matching that description. Not from the state of Pennsylvania, or the states surrounding it. Nothing happened concerning the car, and even the cows stopped crowding it, save for the early mornings. Some left nose prints, or even tongue prints, on the door and window closest to the fence. The feat may well have caused more than a few little zaps from the electric fence.

So then, why not let this unclaimed car sit for a while? Whoever placed it there had thought about it, so it seemed. Anyone on that road would be coming from or going to Lewisburg, and would have no choice but to see the car and it's message. It wasn't like the dairy owner really cared about it, now that his cows came away from it for milking.

Naturally, eventually, word got around. There was a free car on the side of the road, to whoever could start it. People started to pull off to one side of the road, and meet the challenge of the lolspeak dare. If one drove by the Challenger, there was a high chance that there was another vehicle parked in front of it.

No one could open the driver's side door, or any door. No key was in the ignition, and looking for the keys only managed to lead to more frustration and dirtied pants. On occasion, some people got fed up, and tried to pry it open. They tried all things, from paper clips to chisels, to a tennis ball of all things. The cattle lost it whenever someone tried to break into the car, bellowing like a pack of wolves were on them. The only evidence of the attempted break-ins were the faint scratches on the door.

Looking in through the windows showed a little more than most would expect, but not very much. The handle for the gearshift was a tacky eight-ball. The seats were black. A dog-eared little tree hung from the rear view mirror. The sound system showed a wide display, touchscreen, ready to accept CD, iPod, even cassettes. For a slightly older model, the car was in near perfect shape, fresh off the lot at a glance. A new question replaced the old: Why put so much into a car, only to leave it for anyone to take?

For a few months, people tried. They tried, and failed. The paint on the window eventually faded to sun bleached white, and rains carried away any dirt or pollen accumulated over time. Attempts to open the car dwindled. People shrugged off the nice car on the roadside. Buggies trundled by it without a glance. The only ones to give the vehicle any attention were the bovines in the field, and soon enough, they'd be moved into the back pasture for better grazing. It wasn't long before the vehicle was truly abandoned.

And so it was that the custom painted, decked out, unclaimed vehicle would remain abandoned on the side of the road for the next two months.

/\/\/\

R&R.


	2. Take Me Home

Disclaimer: I don't own TFP or any lyrics used.

/\/\/\

Five days a week, it was the same thing, save for the mode of transport. For three years prior, it had been some red car from the nineties, until the damn thing up and decided to die. It had been at the shop for over a week, before the woman decided to forget the damn thing and go back to her old scooter.

She was starting to remember _why_ she hated the dinky, yellow thing. It had a back wheel that squealed the whole time it ran, and it made noise like a sick sheep when stopped at a light. Still, it beat walking, and yield sign yellow was better than nothing.

Briar had lived in Sunbury for at least five years, but no one was counting. She'd moved in with her elderly grandmother, half expecting to be turned away for doing so. The only neighbors were the grandmother's niece and her husband. Quite the awkward birthday, showing up at ten at night, with no more than a bag of clothes and some junk heap bought from Craigslist. Anything to get out of West Virginia.

Her grandmother lived in a house that had the basement converted into a dorm for Bucknell students, looking for a good place to live off campus. Even after the woman passed just two years earlier, Briar kept the tradition alive. The basement was for students, the upstairs was for family. They had cheap rent and all they needed down there. No parties, no drugs, no beer- well, they _could_ have beer. That was Briar's idea, but the other rules stayed firm.

A bug zipped by her ear, making her swerve a bit before growling. Briar's navy eyes squinted in the morning sun. She had a good job in Lewisburg, working at the street of shops. She used to have lunch in the restaurant there, but things sort of changed. Some of her coworkers noticed it, but they didn't say anything. They didn't know what to say, truthfully. They thought the girl was just missing her grandma.

The truth was something else. Something the rail of a woman didn't feel like discussing. The great thing about the area was that most times, people minded their own damn business. It was a lot like her old home, save that there was no cruel gossip behind her back. Just concern, nothing more.

Briar drove on, the little scooter doing its damnedest to get her to work. She gave it a bit of gas, and it went like a screechy little hornet down the road. Her little black iPod thrummed Rammstein in her ears.

The woman drove past the dairy every day to get to work, and every day, she had noticed the car. She wasn't dumb, and she didn't live under a rock. She heard the four men who lived in her basement talk about the car. Briar didn't understand why everyone was so hellbent on getting inside. Maybe they figured they could hotwire the vehicle if they could just get inside. Didn't they understand the concept of a car bomb?

Then again, who would want to blow up a dairy?

She must have passed that stupid car a hundred times by now. Always having another car or truck nearby, always with someone trying to get inside... until recently. Maybe people had given up on it? Briar told herself, time and time again, that she'd check the car out when she had the chance to, but she was so busy. Busy, of course, meaning a six hour shift, broken by a lunch break, then a weekend with Marley if there wasn't a lacrosse game out of town... or state, even.

Briar whizzed past the odd vehicle, and promised, then and there, over the dying threads of a German metal song, that she would stop by that car after work. She hadn't a clue what she'd actually DO if she opened the damn thing. Then again... her car _was_ in the shop for god knew what.

Well, if she blew up, so be it.

That day, after work, the woman squealed down the road and checked for cars. She was on the wrong side of the road, and cutting across opposing lanes of traffic was stupid, at best. Suicidal, at worst, considering the semi's that went in and out of their area to move milk, corn, what have you. The woman considered this to, and decided that getting hit by a semi was better than getting pulled over by a cop on her stinky, yellow scooter.

The grassy median had a good four foot width before one went sailing into the electric, barbed wire fence that controlled the cows.

Briar took a breath, focused her eyes, and tried the door.

Nothing happened.

"Eh, knew it." A semi barreled down the road, sending her short hair every direction. Sighing, Briar fixed her hair sloppily, and posted a bony hand to each hip. She squinted at the vehicle in scrutiny, feeling an old bruise ache on her cheek. Maybe she was just tired, or hungry, but the woman tried the opposite door. Nothing again.

"M'kay." Might as well try the trunk. Why the hell not? She didn't have anything else to do. Briar walked around the back of the vehicle, looking in the rear window. Cool sound system, but it was obvious the doors were locked. No keys sat in the ignition, or cup holder, or in the ashtray. The woman blinked her eyes to clear dust from the day, hearing the distant moos of cattle. She gave the trunk lid a light push, the a hard tug, and again, she got nothing. "Stupid me, thought I'd win a car." The woman gave the left rear tire a kick, hands stuffed into her pockets.

There was a clunking sound. Suddenly, just a bit, the trunk lid lifted. It was open. Briar stared, utterly confused. All she had to do was lift the lid... but then what did she do? She gripped the top of the trunk, and lifted it. She was met with the empty, charcoal-gray insides of a typical car trunk. Briar was just glad she didn't find a body, but looking into the trunk, now she had an idea.

There was a seam, off center, on the left. That meant the seat collapsed flat if a lever was pulled. Briar climbed into the trunk, deciding that she had best try it out, after having more luck than anyone else. The woman bent her gaunt body over and half crawled into the small space. The woman flipped onto her back, shoulders to the seat. Bracing her feet on the edge, she gave the seat a push- and yelped when her neck stung in protest.

At this rate, she wanted to get on her screechy scooter and go home, but she had come farther than anyone else, to her knowledge at least. Wriggling about to get a better angle, Briar folded her right arm, and pressed it, along with her shoulder and left hand, to the seat. It didn't budge. She braced her right foot on the inner lip of the trunk, and tried to straighten her knee. Nothing. Giving a frustrated grunt, the woman took both feet into the trunk, and pushed with all her lithe strength. Nothing.

For all of five seconds.

The trunk slammed shut, and Briar was plunged into total darkness. "Shit!" she spat before fumbling around in the tight space. The woman braced herself as hard as ever against the seat but didn't care about getting into the stupid car. She kicked at the trunk lid for a minute, trying to hit the lights inside. Even if she couldn't reach the handle, she could open the trunk lid and get the hell away from-

The world flipped backwards, and came to a solid stop. The woman lay, sprawled and befuddled, on her back, looking up at a black ceiling. To her left, she saw the sunset through tinted glass. It took a few moments to set in, but when it did, Briar sat straight up in the new, quiet space.

She was in... and her neck hurt.

Briar crawled forward to sit in the passenger's seat. She wriggled a little before cracking her neck to relive the cramp within. It didn't help much, and the eat was as far back and straight up as could be. The woman leaned forward, and popped open the glove compartment, hoping to find keys. Inside sat papers, glowing ice blue under the LED. When unfolded under the light, it was shown to be everything one needed to take ownership of the vehicle. A blank registration form, the factory it came from, even carfax, for god's sake!

A post-it note sat stuck on the back of the carfax sheet, written in the same all caps handwriting as what had been scrawled on the windsheild. She read it, or tried, but the dying sunlight made it hard, and the handwriting sure as hell wasn't helping matters. Reaching up, Briar clicked on an overhead light, flooding the car's interior with more ice blue light. She held up the purple post-it.

"_LOOK HARDER." _

"Lucky me, more looking..." Briar stuffed the papers back into the glove box and reached up to the sunglass holder. She found a pair of rainbow lens, wrap around sunglasses, but no keys. She checked the armrest. Empty. Under the seat, same thing, and behind the seats, same thing. So, the woman followed the instructions, and looked harder.

Sighing at coming up empty, Briar ran her hands through her auburn hair, and slumped to rest in the driver's seat.

She adjusted the mirror before giving the brown, 'leather scent' car tree a flick. The woman adjusted the seat, and met her own eyes. Briar wrinkled her large nose, and glared at her bruised cheek. Checking the mirror one final time, before continuing her search, she felt something. There as a small bump on one side of the rear view mirror. The woman pressed it, and it ejected with a slight click. Pinching it with her thumb and index finger, she pulled the tiny rectangle free of the mirror.

In her palm sat a car key, with a blue, winking smiley face sticker on the grip.

Briar had the key. Inside there she felt this sudden... _rush_. Giddy when she didn't think she would be, and with car bombs far from her mind, she plunged the key into the ignition, and turned it, eyes wide, free hand grasping the steering wheel like a lifeline.

The Challenger didn't purr, it growled, louder than a caged jaguar.

"Hah!" the woman grinned to herself, and pressed on the gas. The car roared, exhaust pluming from the tailpipes. Full tank. Briar fiddled with the buttons of the sound system. No CD, cassette, but an iPod line was ready to take her little nano. She looked out the windshield, clicking on the wipers to get the paint off. She stepped out of the vehicle, still smiling faintly. One last thing to do.

With her dinky scooter folded up in the trunk, and the crescent-shaped moon glowing rosy above her, Briar drove her new car home. Rammstein blasted from the speakers the whole ride.

/\/\/\

R&R


	3. Sonne

Disclaimer: I don't own TFP or any lyrics used.

/\/\/\

The first thing that Briar heard when she stepped out of her new car was the voice of one of her renters. He was standing on the small deck in the garage that led to the kitchen. "How the hell did you get that car?" A dead cigarette was clutched between two fingers, the last fumes of smoke billowing from his mouth and nose when he spoke. The young man stood with his upper body propped on his elbows.

"Hey, Al." Briar shut the driver's door behind her using her right hip, smirking. "I got lucky?" That was how she saw it, to say the least. A lucky break, nothing more.

"Hell yeah, you did!" Allen shouted as he raced down the garage steps. The cigarette butt was flicked into the nearby trashcan. He had to get a good look at the Challenger. He could tell from the deck above that it really needed a bath. "How'd you get in?"

The woman gave an awkward smile. "Trunk."

He paused at the bottom of the stairs, brows raised at her reply. "Trunk?"

She gave an arbitrary shrug to her friend in answer. "Yeah. It just sorta popped open, and I crawled inside. Pushed the seat until it fell down."

Allen scraped at the outline of the once-there words with a yellowed fingernail. The car would need a good rubdown. He glanced at her sideways. "That it?" He could have done that! Well, maybe if he were built like a _twig_, he could have.

"Well, uh-" The woman cleared her throat. "The trunk lid _sorta_ slammed while I was inside. I was trying to get out, and-"

Allen barked a laugh. "You're shitting me!" She got locked in the trunk and didn't even seem bothered.

"Nope." The woman shuffled a bit on her feet. It was embarrassing, now that someone else was there to hear about it. Asphyxiation was as bad as exploding, though far quieter. "I only got the car because I was trapped." It was fight to get out or suffocate, and suffocation wasn't how she wanted to die, anyway.

The young man's olive eyes widened a tad. "Girl, you coulda died!"

She hated when he called her girl, but she let it go. He was a decent guy, who cared anyway. "Not dead, am I?" Well, _technically_, she wasn't dead, though her coworkers could certainly say otherwise if asked.

The towhead grinned cheekily. "Nah, can't kill a zombie." He dodged her hand as it came at his arm in a slap. Allen scuttled around the back, already balanced on his heels to check the vehicle out. It was in beautiful shape. He loved the fade job on the paint, bright turquoise to deep indigo. "Sweet!" He grabbed the scant bumper to push himself up, grinning at his landlady. The man gave the right rear tire a kick. Sounded good, for a car sitting in grass for two months.

"It ran like a champ. Whoever left it got it good to go." Briar uncrossed her arms to post her hands at her hips. "Watcha think?"

"I think you have got one hell of a car on your hands." Allen's brows rose. "You got papers?"

"In the glove box."

"License plate?"

"No?" Why would there be a plate? She had her own and could just take old plate off her old car. She'd register the vehicle with her insurance company in the morning. Oh, they were never gonna believe how she came to own the damn thing.

"Sweet, you're almost set to go. You check out the sound system yet?"

"Yeah, the whole ride home." And it was _awesome_. "Go on, pop the door."

Allen did so, watching as Briar sank into the driver's seat with her iPod in hand. He loved cars, especially muscle cars. Seeing the stick of a woman behind the wheel of the beast between them had him near cackling. He wasn't jealous at all; he was happy that she got something nice, just for herself. He'd be sure to ask for the keys if he had a date, or just wanted to tear it up on the back-roads. Only a moron would steal their landlady's car.

The sound of a knife being sharpened filtered through the system, and soon enough, _Mein Teil_ blasted through the garage. You could hear it across the yard and up the hill, the bass roaring to life as it bounced off the walls and even the distant trees. The sound system was epical.

"Hell yeah!" Allen shouted, nodding his head hard to the beat. He didn't know what they were saying in the song, but it was loud, so who cared?

Briar chuckled to herself as the song played on. Wait until the other renters saw this.

/

It was pretty close to one in the morning, and the only neighbors in the area were fast asleep. The woman that had conquered the impenetrable car had long since gone to bed. The most that the four males dwelling down below were doing was reading, or cramming, or both. College students. All of them, the woman included, pitched in a couple bucks to buy pizza. That was hours ago, and everything was peaceful.

Now seemed like the perfect time to search the internet on whoever the woman was that had earned the right to take the Challenger home. The lights flickered inside the vehicle, while the engine lay dormant. A cold, blue glow rolled like a fog around the steering wheel, and settled. Pixels danced and bounced as the depths of the web were probed.

_Search: Briar_

The search came up with a lot of pictures, mostly of bushes and every sort of shrubbery and a lot of horses, but no woman. Well, not the one that was being searched for.

_Name Search: Briar_

Forty-six matches found. The car sagged lightly on its wheels, as this didn't help matters at all. The thing about humans was that last names weren't spoken that often. Human names were strange to say the least. Some had two or three names, maybe more. How many did the woman have? Alright, then, long as this went somewhere. The search narrowed to the US only. Fourteen matches. Still not enough. Search narrowed to the state of Pennsylvania.

One match found. Bingo. Lucky day, indeed.

Name: Briar H Sheffield. Aged Twenty-four. Born in Clay, West Virginia. Blah blah blah, the criminal record was the important thing. Just who was going to be driving from now on?

It was a little unexpected, but better than the other options. The woman...Briar, had a clean record. No priors, no warrants, no court dates, drug busts, habits, scrap, not even a speeding ticket! Pit, did the woman even _have_ a life?

Squeaky clean... but not too boring. She had a knack for winding up at the doctor's office. Seemed to accumulate quite the amount of scratches and bruises, according to her medical records. Maybe, the stick woman was a bit of a fighter? Or, maybe, she was just a total klutz. Her taste in music was... well, acquired, to say the least. Still, so long as she wasn't prone to panic attacks or hyperventilating, this could work out rather well... if the cards were played right, of course.

No time to turn back now. The femme had made the choice, and wasn't about to let go of this new chance at things. It'd all work out... and, if it didn't? Well... running sure was fun. Out went the lights in the vehicle as she relaxed on her axles, and the world around her was none the wiser to it all.

/\/\/\

Please, R&R.


	4. A Rush of Blood to the Head

Disclaimer: I don't own TFP or any lyrics used.

/\/\/\

While her insurance company wasn't really buying the story at first, Briar managed to send them enough information to get the all-clear on the car. An hour at the car shop to get her old plate, and she was good to go. The old car was given to the shop for cheap, seeing that Briar didn't need it anymore. She only took so long to get going because some of the men there wanted to get a good look at the vehicle. The paperwork was put in the mail soon enough.

She'd had the car for about a week. The only thing holding her up, really, was the paper work. Briar wasn't going to get pulled over. She _never_ got pulled over, and she had the plates put on at the shop. Briar wasn't going to let the Challenger sit in the garage until some papers came in.

Why not take the back roads for some fun?

The blue vehicle purred in the garage, Briar not even seated. She caught part of a song on the radio. She swore to herself she'd turned it off the night before. '_Tell me, can you ask for anything more?These things that have comforted me, I drive away. This place that is my home I cannot stay. My only faith's in the broken bones and bruises I display.' _The woman's brow creased. When had Springsteen grown so depressing, and more to the point, when had she turned her radio on?

The woman buckled up and hit the garage remote. Up went the door, and out she went. Gray dust swirled up behind her and settled like grainy storm clouds. Two lefts and a stop sign later, and Briar idled at the mouth of the back roads. All it was was an aged, dirt road that snaked and swelled through the dense woods. It used to lead to houses, but those were torn down, and the woods returned to cover the place cabins once stood.

She looked left, then right, then left, and drove while System of a Down screamed at her.

The ride was smoother than she'd expected. More than a few belly-ticklers as she wound around the bends and turns. Small slopes made her heart speed up. Briar took a right too hard, but the Challenger handled it like a goddamned champion. The woman's gaze was glued to the slope up ahead. Couldn't be more than six inches up at the peak. Pedal met metal and the bluish muscle car went sailing.

There was a _reason_ Briar wasn't much of a thrill seeker. As soon as things went wrong, with most everything, she froze. This slope was one of those things. Her elbows locked and so did the rest of her.

The hill wasn't as flat as she guessed. The Challenger got more air than Briar was comfortable with, and it came down, hard. She swore the bumper slapped the ground when she stood on the brakes. The music skipped on impact.

_'The rain was comin' down, the wind was howlin' outside of Slidell. It was the kinda night that makes you think the whole world's goin' to hell!'_

How in the hell... She didn't know this song. She didn't even know the band! How the hell did the damn music skip to the radio? Fumbling a hand in the shadows didn't answer anything. The iPod was plugged into the jack, and a quick tug on the connection told Briar that nothing came loose. "Gotta be a fluke..." Taking a breath, the ride on the back roads continued, albeit, at a safer speed. The music was let alone for the time.

On the ride back, Briar remembered the gas station and smirked to herself. It had a new car wash installed about a month before. The woman really had to give it a go, and seeing that she was going on empty anyway...

Briar gave the tank enough premium to get to half way. She didn't know if the car needed premium, just that it needed fuel. Giving it the best seemed about right. There wasn't much better to do. Come to think of it, she never really did have anything better to do, unless Marley was back from a lacrosse competition. When was the last time they'd done something fun together, anyway?

Briar pulled into the car wash, picking the second best wash for the Challenger. She felt the purring engine under her legs. The feeling was reassuring. The vibrations said stability, safety, power. She'd had the car for a week, and was attached to it already. The woman decided that wasn't a bad thing. Why _shouldn't_ she like the car, when it was so damn cool? "Hope you like clear-coat," Briar muttered under her breath.

The radio played a song softly as she pulled in. _'Oh, I like you so very much, so much in fact-'_ Briar fiddled with her iPod and switched it on. The radio was gonna die down when she got inside the wash. The iPod decided to play a bit of Coldplay as the weird, foamy tentacles wiggled across the car's body. _'To my surprise, and my delight, I saw sunrise, I saw sunlight. I am nothing in the dark, and the clouds burst to show daylight~...'_

It was nothing but Coldplay on the drive home.

/

The next morning was not a good one for Briar. Mornings in general were crappy, but this one took the cake. She set her coffee on the rail around the garage deck, and knew the second she looked down that something was wrong.

It was crooked. Briar's brows pinched a tad as she leaned to one side. Yes. The car was, indeed, crooked. She had a line next to her car, done in paint, so that she could take up as little room in the garage as possible. Having parked cars a thousand times or more, she knew how to park straight, no problem, no fuss. The rear, left tire was on that line. The vehicle was crooked and the woman was not happy about it.

Joe didn't have classes that day, it seemed. Or, he was playing hooky. Did college kids even call it hooky? Well, anyway, Joe was in the garage, working on something. She didn't know what it was and she really didn't care. He had a soldering gun in hand, goggles pulled over his eyes.

The woman shouted to him as she hopped down the stairs. "Joe!"

"Yeah?" He didn't turn, the edges of his frame flickering with hot white lights as solder met metal

"You take my car out for a ride?"

The tall man frowned, and looked up from whatever it was he was doing to peer at her over his shoulder. "No?"

"Someone has."

The man's goggles moved as he made a face at her. "Okay?"

"I mean, you have a girlfriend-"

The man shrugged and turned back to his work. "So does Tim, and I don't _need_ your car." Blunt man, that one.

Briar made it to his side in two strides, interrupting him from his little project again. "The others have night classes, and Al's not dumb enough to steal my-"

Joe turned to her fully with an annoyed frown. "No one _stole_ your car, Briar. Who gives a crap if it was borrowed?"

"_I_ do, Joe." They were about on eye level, until he stood up. At his full height, he stood almost a half foot over her. Briar, being five foot nine, despised being shadowed.

Joe lifted his goggles to sit on his forehead, glaring harshly at woman that was so damn accusatory. Briar wasn't intimidating on a good day, and she certainly wasn't in her fluffy, lily-white bathrobe. Joe wasn't intimidating, either. The red rings around his eyes made him look a lot meaner than he really was. His gaze wandered in question from her eyes to her jaundiced cheek. "Got any new bruises?"

The young man's sincerity was met with hardened eyes.

Briar stared for a moment longer, before turning on her heel and thumping up the garage staircase. She slammed the door behind her. Her coffee sat, forgotten, steaming away. Joe pulled down his goggles, and went back to work. Scrap sculptures didn't construct themselves, and it wasn't his business to worry about bruises or cars.

/

Several days after the confrontation with Joe, there sat all the proof a person could need. Someone had unquestionably taken the car. If it had only happened once, the whole thing would have been let go. The woman might have thought, that, _maybe_, she had been in a rush and just missed the line.

But now, Briar stood by the bumper of her car, staring down at the rear tires. Mud had splattered the wheel wells and wheels themselves. The car was a mess, and it had rained during the night. She had heard the thunder yesterday. If she was being gas-lighted, so help her, that stun gun in her panty drawer would be put to use!

The woman exhaled aggressively through her large nose in something damn close to a snort. It seemed that, whoever had been taking the car did it every four days. Not a bright move on their part, because now, she had a way to catch them.

This shit was gonna end, one way or another.

/

The woman was obviously cross about something, but when asked by a concerned coworker, they were met with grumbling. This happened to everyone at the Street of Shops, so they thought it best to leave the stick of a woman to herself.

The only one that could get a peep out of her was an old family friend who owned a butcher shop. It was the only place Briar could get Moxie. Everywhere else sold the diet kind, and diet Moxie was crap.

The woman set down the six pack and stared absently at the meat display case.

"Hey," the chubby man behind the counter scanned her sodas. "That it?" It was habit to ask, but she never bought anything else.

"M'hmm..."

The man bagged her sodas, taking the money and ticking away at the register. "You doin' alright?"

"Yeah. Someone's using my car at night."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Good luck withat." A couple of coins dropped into her open palm.

The extent of their conversation was no more than a dozen or so words, but that was about all they had to say. Briar always payed in cash, and the man didn't wear a name tag. It was their longest conversation to date, and would most likely remain as such. All the man knew about her was that she was Mona's grandchild and that Mona was with her husband in Heaven. Family friend or not, he let the lanky woman alone.

Briar drove home while Disturbed blasted in her ears. Sodas sweated in the back seat.

/

Four days on the dot, and Briar had her plan ready. She'd broken her own rules, and had made a pot of coffee past nine pm. Pure coffee, tar black and oil rich. The woman downed four cups within ten minutes. Caffeine would have to due. Energy drinks gave her massive stomach pains and only defeated their purpose by forcing her to lay down.

Stun gun in one hand, and a stomach full of burning hot coffee and cold pizza, Briar left the house through the back door. The door was known for slamming, so she held it and let it close slowly. She made her way down the brick path, and stood before the garage door, waiting.

It was not long, standing amongst the darkness and lulled by the chirps of crickets, before her mind wandered.

Briar hadn't really meant to give people the cold shoulder at work. She'd kind of thought that they would be used to it by now. Her standoffish nature had been ingrained into her. Always being made fun of for being lanky, she didn't let people get close at school. The woman let out a sigh. It was good to get out of West Virginia when she had. It was a little sad that her parents didn't want to even try to bring her home.

Oh well. She'd made some good friends out in the calm, quiet world that was Pennsylvania. She had a roof over her head, money left in the will her grandmother had made, and a steady flow of income from her job, as well as her renters. Three-hundred a month per person wasn't much for college students, and only taking four people at a time ensured that no one got too cramped, or too loud. Her grandmother did well on that income, and now, so did she.

Still, Briar kept her job at the Street of Shops. It didn't pay the best, but it gave her plenty to do during her day. Not to mention Marley... there really was no mentioning Marley. Barely around, and all hands when back from competitions. Briar sometimes felt like nothing more than a body to be played with, but her head told her it wasn't true. Marley loved her, and she loved Marley. Why else would they be together after this long if it weren't true?

A loud bout of noise came from the garage and Briar was jolted from her spacing out. It sounded like someone knocked over a trashcan full of soda cans, or something equally loud and startling. She held up her stun-gun, and shouted at the shut door.

"I know you're in there, and I know you're the one taking my car!" The woman threw a chunk of gravel at her garage door. "I'm gonna open the garage, and you better have your hands up!" Nothing happened. There was no reply, and she called out again. "I have a stun gun, don't fuck around!" A press of a button, and the garage door slowly rose up. Briar held her weapon at the ready. The flashlight shone on the-

Oh... _Oh_.

The... _thing_, had it's hand's held up to either side of its head, as Briar had shouted for it to do, but it was far from human. The thing was huge, it had to crouch in the doorway just to fit into view. Briar couldn't see its face. It was blocked by the two, purple lights that glowed high from the ground. The robot seemed to have... horns? No... _spikes_. The woman's flashlight went over the thing's arms and stomach. The thing was bluish and absolutely barnacled with spikes. It sunk in: there was a pointy robot parked inside the garage. It cocked it's head a little, almost expectant of the woman. The purple lights flickered in a blink.

Briar looked at the spine-covered robot poking its head out of her garage, stared for a few seconds longer, and decided to just go back to bed. She clicked off the flashlight, and turned back to the path. The woman made sure the door didn't slam, as before. She ignored the absolutely befuddled metal thing that had turned to stare at her. The kitchen door shut with a quiet thud.

/\/\/\

Lyrics used, in order: Bruce Springsteen- _The Wrestler_. Ludo- _Lake ____Pontchartrain__. Her Space Holiday- ____Sleepy Tigers__. Coldplay- ____Daylight._

Please, R&R.


	5. Safe in the Dark

Disclaimer: I don't own TFP or any lyrics used within.

/\/\/\

The alarm rang like an end-days siren, the ever jarring sound of metal hammers to bells. The lithe female rolled herself onto the floor. One day, she'd chuck that stupid alarm at a wall and it'd actually break. Not this day, it seemed. It sat on the floor and continued to ring. It was shut off and rewound with a grunt.

Briar swore to herself that she was going to _never_ eat left over jalapeno-bacon-pineapple pizza before trying to solve a mystery _ever _again_._ Talk about crazy food dreams. Maybe it was the grease. Too much grease may have done it, considering her diet was mostly coffee, toast, and fruit. Well, _maybe_ a poptart now and then, but pizza was probably too much.

Allen, Tim, Evan and Joe had headed to school. She was used to waking up at home alone. Marley was never around long enough to stay the night, and Briar wasn't ready for that. Although, Marley had a habit of talking her into spending the night in the dorms, which wasn't so bad. Briar still woke up alone, due to lacrosse practice. The guys had been gone for a good hour before she got up. Eight on the dot, with work at nine. She wouldn't ever understand how they survived on their diets of takeout. Then again, she'd never gone to college.

Her toast popped into the air as she poured a mug of cold coffee, mind still fogged with sleep. She wasn't sure how the stuff was, but dumped in a spoon of sugar, anyway. Breakfast went by in silence. The kitchen clock ticked away the seconds. Half the toast and coffee went in the trash. The woman showered. She had to get the heater fixed, because a tepid shower just made for a shitty morning.

Briar grabbed her keys as she headed out the door to the garage. She was early for work, but she figured it would take her mind off the odd dreams from the night before. A drive always helped her clear her head or forget bad memories. Maybe she could get a game of Sudoku in when everyone thought she was at lunch. The woman jogged down the stairs, key in hand, iPod in pocket-

Oh, that... _that_ wasn't a car.

"Mornin'." The robot spoke indifferently, voice giving a slight echo in the large, empty space of the garage. She- did robot's even _have_ genders?- sounded southern, almost Louisianan, and was just sitting against Briar's garage wall, her back to the house. One leg was bent and the other was stretched, hands flat to the floor.

The response was not what the femme expected.

"God _dammit_, I'm still sleeping!" The woman growled, sitting with a thud on the middle step. What the hell did she have to do to wake up from this crap? Had she dreamed that the alarm went off?

The femme smirked at her, though her voice conveyed concern. "You ain't dreamin', honey." She pulled her knees up to her chest-plate and let her hands fall to her lap.

In response, Briar blanched, dark eyes widening. Scrambling up the stairs in a backwards crab walk only served to make the robot lean her way!

The femme tilted her head and adjusted to get closer -but not _too_ close,- to the woman. "You okay?"

The woman snapped, face wrinkling. "Oh, _I'm fine._ There's this big ass robot sitting in my garage. Not a big _deal!_" How was she expected to react? Hugs for the overgrown hedgehog?!

The robot's purple optics narrowed. "Oh, good. Normal way t' act. Thought ya went into shock." She leaned back, arms crossed over her chest. "So... you gonna sit there all day?" She hadn't any idea how this would actually go. She'd have covered herself better if she wasn't starved in this... garage, was it? She shrugged at Briar. "We can do that iffin you wanna. May wanna call work an' all t' let them know." The second half was said more or less to herself, but the human was up like a shot.

"Shit, I'm late! I gotta go!" Forgetting about the pointy blue thing a few feet from her, Briar stood and ran to the floor of the garage, searching for her vehicle. "Where is my car?" she asked heavily.

"Really?" The femme got onto her hands and knees, hearing hydraulics and gears loosen and clank as she moved. Primus, she was getting old.

"Where'd you put it?" Briar shouted, stamping one of her feet. It occurred to her that this hulking metal being wasn't so... hulking. It... she... could stand upright in the garage if she wanted to... but the human preferred it if she just stayed on the ground. Or left and never came back. Or she could just _wake the hell up_ and this would all be over with, but _no_. Her brain had to do it the hard way!

The robot squinted an optic at the human. "Hmm... Looky here." She tapped an indigo claw to her glass chest-plate with a soft clinking and the human leaned in, just a little... not enough to get a good look at what was trying to explain to the thickheaded little- No, no getting mad. Not now. The femme closed the gap between them both, her claw on a speckle of brown within her.

Briar's navy eyes widened as she saw the familiar, brown, 'leather scented' car tree. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish, stranded on land.

"M'hm."

For the second time that morning, Briar flopped onto the third step up on the garage stairs. Save that this time it was shock rather than pure exasperation. "You're real."

"Yup." The young woman suddenly felt like crawling back into bed. The robot seemed to take notice and lowered herself a bit. Her head spikes... ears... _thingies_, that'd work, were splayed as if looking for sound. "You breathin' alright?"

"Giant robot." Briar breathed, her chest suddenly feeling far too tight to be considered healthy. "My car is a giant robot."

Said robot squinted. "Well, really now, a giant robot turns into your car." The femme wasn't about to correct her on sizes. She wasn't that big, not compared to a Wrecker, or a Dinobot, for that matter! Briar was scared enough as it was. No need to make it any worse for the little lady!

"So, that means you moved around on your own." No one was screwing with her car. She yelled at Joe for nothing.

"Yup."

Briar was as tired as she had been when she went to bed. This was too much for her to take in. "Where do you go at night?" Might as well ask.

"Fuel."

She took offense to that. "I give you fuel!" For god's sake, she fed her premium!

"That stuff you givin' me's junk food. Can't run on it without actin' up."

"Then, what do you eat?"

The femme gave the human the blankest stare she was able of doing. "Energon."

Briar shot the robot her best irritated stare, which in turn only made her seem all the more tired. "Okay, whatever, robot, but-"

"Razor."

Briar blinked. "What?"

The robot glared as her patience wore to bare threads, which in turn made the woman below blink again. "My _name_, numbnodes. My name is Razor."

"Okay, Razor," said the woman with a crinkle of her brows, "What happened to my car?"

"Woman, I _am_ the car. Always was the car."

Briar twitched a bit before rubbing her eyes at the whole damn situation. "Alright, okay, you're my car. Got it."

"Finally getting' places-"

"-but you're also a robot! An alien, right?" there was no way that Razor was from earth. Alien was the best guess she could go for.

Razor gave Briar a short nod. "Autonomous robotic organism from another planet. You got that right."

"No no, I get that, too! I don't get why the you parked by the dairy! Don't you have anything better to do than stalk humans like me?" asked Briar bluntly.

The femme's smirk stayed plastered to her faceplate, but her optics contracted slightly. Briar felt the impulse to back away from the suddenly far more frightening mechanical being, but didn't. She was a butterfly in a case, and Razor's stare was the pin that held her firm. "You're running late. Gotta go." Razor's frame began to contort and her spines flattened, merging as the familiar shape of the Challenger surfaced from the undulating, indigo mass.

The human scuttled away from the shifting mechanical being. Her shout barely made it over the din. "I'm not getting in you!"

That dumb, southern drawl rolled out of the speakers of the newly formed vehicle through the opened windows. "Why in the pit not?"

"You're alive! I don't... it's weird-"

The car sank on her wheels in a sigh. "Look, unless you wanna ride yall's scrap scooter to work, get your aft in gear, _now_." She popped her driver's side door, only to have Briar walk around her front and yank open the passenger door. What in the pit-

"Fine!" Briar clambered into the passenger's seat, far from zealous about getting behind the wheel, being certain to slam the door as hard as she could. Nothing happened.

"Get in the driver's seat. Plug in your iPod. Stop actin' like a youngling."

"...a what?"

"Petulant teenager."

What options were there? "Since you're not gonna move..." The woman moved over and sat in her usual seat, frowning. She pushed the button on her keys to open the garage door, before cramming her keys into the ignition. Hard.

"Ya can't hurt me, woman."

"You can't scare me, robot."

The second the door was up enough, Razor tore out of the garage with a roar of her engine. She made sure to slow from ninety to fifty the second she was on the main road.

/\/\/\

Please, R&R.


	6. Wake Up Call

Disclaimer: I don't own TFP or any lyrics used within.

/\/\/\

Briar held the steering wheel despite the shaking numbness in her hands. Her eyes stayed on the road, though she could easily let go and allow the car... _robot_, do the driving for her. The human didn't know what to think of this, though she could just as easily let the vehicle go into a ditch or something. Maybe that would be enough to jolt her out of this dream she was _sure_ was still going on in her head.

The radio played on, and the iPod remained unplugged in the cup holder.

Briar took a deep breath and felt a headache coming on. She let go of the steering wheel. The car- Razor, went on in a straight line, the wheel turning a little to accommodate the road. A southern drawl curled from the speakers. "Feelin' alright?"

"No."

"Mm."

More driving. Work wasn't far away, at the most it was a fifteen minute commute to there and back. "Why, cuz I let go of the wheel?"

The femme switched to the turn only lane, before she continued to talk. "Naw, cuz your butt cheeks could crack a nut."

The human sank into the seat from the offensive comparison to a nut cracker. "Scuse me for being tense."

Razor flipped idly through the radio channels, hoping to offer a distraction via music. Music was always a good distraction. "I dun _see_ why y' are's my problem..." she trailed off. It was obvious that the human was not enjoying this at all. Razor tried again. "Briar, it ain't like I'm gonna transform with y'all in me. I ain't big enough fer that." Well, _maybe_, considering the human was underweight and pretty much a stick with a face. Though, sticks tended to snap in half a lot.

The human's breath hitched. "So, there's robots bigger than you?"

Scrap. "Yup." With that, the human went stiff as a board. Razor continued. "There's others of my kind. Big, small, giant, teeny. Dun matter bout sizes. Point is you gotta avoid 'em, all of 'em."

"Why?"

Razor cut the next turn too hard, making her tires squeal at the strain. "I'm good, but they ain't. You see another bot, you run f' cover."

The woman hummed, crossing her arms, her gaze on the steering wheel that turned all on its own. This was a lot to take in. More than most could take. She was certain now that, this Razor, wasn't really sure about how to talk to her. It wasn't like Briar had been all warm-fuzzies about a robot in her garage. How was she supposed to respond? Swallowing, Briar pushed for a little more. What could it hurt? "How are _you_ good?"

The femme's voice was heavier than lead, and twice as soft. "I dun wanna kill your race, and I didn't wanna kill my own."

Briar squirmed a little in her seat.

"Y' haven't upset me, y'know. A lot tougher than I look." Razor's voice carried the undercurrent of a chuckle. Timid stick, this Briar was. She was still tense.

"This is a lot to get, okay?"

"What's there to get? I'm an alien robot that can transform into a car."

The human let a sigh out between her teeth. "It's impossible. You shouldn't exist."

"You're a human. You're weird t' me."

"I'm weird?"

"You _are_ all weird. Fleshy and pink, and shades o' brown. Easy t' injure. Your species is all... loud and fragile. It's new t' me." The fragile part of it all was new, at least. Loudness she knew far too well. "Ya can make stuff that's more powerful than ya should be able to. Ya have enough scary 'splosives to wipe your whole planet clean. All that power and no way to use it without killing everything."

"We're weirdos to each other."

"Yup." And there went Briar's butt, clenching up again! "You still nervous 'bout me?"

"No, I have to fart." Why lie?

Razor's interior lights flickered a little. "Oh. Pass gas? Have at."

The human's navy eyes went wide. "I'm not farting in you!"

"You're sitting in me. Your butt is on mah seat. You leave skin cells and hair when y' move, and I know well it's how ya function." Razor hit a pothole, and that was all it took for it to happen. A light chuckle came from her speakers. "Hehe. Tickles." She couldn't see her face, but the human was blushing bright red.

Within a minute's time, the Challenger pulled up to the curb of the Street of Shops, and idled there for a moment. "Outcha go."

Briar's hand rested on the belt release. "I can park."

"I know it, but I have somethin' to do."

The human grasped the handle, but paused. "Fuel?"

"Yup."

"Uh... ok. I'll see you after work." Briar pushed open the door, and stepped over the fine gravel onto the sidewalk. They weren't open yet, but she saw Malinda, an older woman with a smoking habit, standing by the entrance.

"Hey," said the older woman, smiling crookedly at Briar.

"Hey." She bumped the car's door shut with her hip out of habit, and the vehicle sped off, letting out a roar as it did so. What was she supposed to do for the next couple minutes? Small talk?

The woman blinked quizzically at the auburn, sipping on her coffee. "What's up?"

"Car's acting up. Having a friend take it to the shop."

Malinda's brows went up to her graying hairline. The still smoking menthol was tossed into the street. "Aww, you serious?"

Briar nodded. "Who's got basement duty?"

"Dunno. You like it down there? With all the geezers?" Malinda's asked, tongue in cheek.

"Eh... less people."

"Aw, what's wrong with us people?"

Briar didn't have an answer. Soon enough the shops would open, and it'd be another day, like any other day.

/

On board the _**Hanlon**_, a large, relaxed figure sat in her pilots chair. The femme ran a small diagnostic on herself. Far from a medic, but able to do just above basic repairs, Razor wanted to be positive that everything checked out. Last thing she wanted was to go into stasis lock, especially now that Briar was aware of her existence beyond that of being a vehicle.

The lines going to the major tube in her arm tingled a little. She had been told by her ship's diagnostics of her own fuel lines, that she had to add certain chemicals to her energon to counteract the 'premium' that had been feed into her. Razor let out a whine as she bumped. The medic-installed catheter. The indigo femme never took fuel by mouth. Razor was capable of speaking, screaming, singing, all things an unmodified mech or femme could, save for taking fuel. Swallowing _anything_ hurt.

Oh well. The throat modification had been worth it. The energon on this planet was probably scrappy, taste wise. The femme sighed as her helm hit the back of her chair with a shutter of her optics.

The Susquehanna was too shallow for the _**Hanlon**_ to be hidden under the murky depths, as she had hoped. Razor had settled for an island, too small for most humans to safely inhabit. She kept the cloak on during day hours, and off during the night. If anyone set foot on the island, she would be alerted to it. Back up plans were in place. Had it been any later in the day, she'd risk being spotted. Cars, she had learned, weren't aquatic things.

There had been no takers in Maryland, and, the Chesapeake bay stunk.

Razor's optics popped open at the sound of the alarm. Her fueling was done. She'd been inside of the ship for two hours now. That was the problem with line feeding; it took far longer than by mouth.

Briar didn't get off work for some time yet... The femme set a second alarm before stretching her spine-covered arms over her helm. Maybe a short recharge cycle in robot mode would ease the aches in her joints.

/\/\/\

Please, R&R.


	7. Violet Hill

Disclaimer: I do not own TF: Prime or any lyrics used within.

/\/\/\

_The seeker looked at the grounder questioningly, and the grounder looked back equally confused. "You don't look like a Razor. Not sharp enough." The seeker sauntered towards the femme while the grounder just watched, seeming unhappy with something._

_Well, at least he didn't hit her again. The slightest movement sent waves of pain cascading through her arm and chestplate, the blade in the seam of her shoulder biting deeper with even a twitch. "My name is Razor. My name is… Razor…" The leaking and aching femme repeated her own name like a mantra. "Razor… Razor… Razor…"_

_In one quick motion, The seeker stepped forward and pulled down on the knife still in the femme's shoulder. "We ain't ASKING who you are, FEMME!" _

_The femme let out a shriek as armor parted from wires, cables splitting with a spurt of sparks and energon. She'd lost so much energon down here, in the dark. That scream took almost everything out of her. Couldn't even whimper. Couldn't even-_

"Augh!"

The femme awoke on her side, laying on the floor of her ship. Her vents heaved in the darkness, her pupils shrunken to pinpoints near swallowed by violet. Still heaving her vents to calm herself, Razor looked for the alarm. She gulped, and winced before rolling ever so slowly onto her stomach plating. Her helm rested on the floor.

Where was she? The _**Hanlon**_. The _**Hanlon**_ was on an island, an island in the Susquehanna river, which was in a place called Pennsylvania. Pennsylvania was... where was Pennsylvania? Razor hit her helm on the floor again with a thud. She had to remember where she was, or she'd crack. Pennsylvania was in north America. North America was on Earth.

Earth was _not_ Cybertron, and that meant that Razor was safe. The femme didn't feel safe, but she was used to that, after having bad dreams. The dreams, she learned, stayed at bay if she recharged in vehicle mode. Razor managed a sneer as she pushed herself onto her aft. Talk about showing your age. Vehicle mode made her ache, and bipedal mode made her remember. "Can't win."

Guardedly, vents hitching, the femme got to her pedes. still trying to get her fight or flight instinct to shut up. She was cloaked, ship and all. Her energon stores were at full capacity, and blocked from detection. Couldn't be found, couldn't be located. Razor repeated it in her processor to burn it into her thoughts.

She shut off the no longer needed alarm, checked for any humans in the area, and headed back to land once it was clear. Briar would be off shift in an hour, and she wanted to be parked and waiting for her.

/\

Boring work day down in the basement. Antiques and vintage things went in and out. Her day was mostly ringing things up and straightening things up. Boring wasn't bad, seeing that a mundane job was a steady job. Considering the economy Briar was a lucky young woman. As soon as the Challenger was in sight, the woman speed-walked across the street to the parking lot. Her brows knit at the purring engine and she slapped a palm to the hood.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Hmm?" came a tired reply.

"You're engine's on, I'm not in you, why are you on?"

The femme grunted and swung her door open. "Whatever."

Briar blinked, brows knit tight over her dark eyes, and she climbed downwards into the driver's seat. The vehicle slammed her door and pulled out of the spot. Sand and gravel flew out behind the two as the two sped out of the lot. The chassis bounced roughly as Razor went over a curb.

The human swallowed. "Razor, uh, are you alright?"

"Are _you?_"

That confused her. She'd been gone for a few hours. What was with the attitude? "Never mind." Briar received no reply from the femme. This whole situation was getting all the more uncomfortable. She resisted the very powerful urge to squirm. Marley didn't like it when Briar squirmed. "What'd I do?" She may have broken some sort of robot etiquette, but how was she supposed to know what to do?

Razor idled at a red light, and sank low on her wheels in a sigh. "It ain't you."

The woman's hands curled around the steering wheel. Something was wrong, and the robot didn't want to talk about it. Her grip tightened a tad, before she took a deep breath to steady herself. Not the end of the world, just asking a question. "Do you wanna, uh, talk about it?"

"Not really."

"O-kay, then." The silence that followed was something the human decided she didn't enjoy one bit. Knowing that the car could speak but didn't, knowing that the car could pick music on it's own and wouldn't, knowing that she was too nervous to plug in her iPod to ease the uneasy silence... "Can you turn on the radio?"

"Sure." The femme turned the radio down to almost its lowest volume, and hit the gas when the light turned green. _'Everyone wants to feel safe in the dark, everyone wants to feel safe in the dark. Forces unseen pulling strings in your heart. Everyone wants to feel safe in the dark.' _

Briar recognized the singer. The same band played during that 'iPod fluke' on the back roads. "Who is this?"

"Dun like it?"

"You keep playing them, that's all." Briar blinked, eyes focused on the rear view mirror. She had to look somewhere when she talked, why not talk to her own eyes in a mirror? It was easier than talking to air, or the steering wheel. "No, I like it."

"Ah..." The femme took the turn up the driveway. "Ludo. Band's called Ludo."

The woman hit the garage button, and the door opened to show that Evan was sitting on the steps of the garage. "Well, I like them."

"Yeah?" Razor pulled into the parking space and idled, before shutting off her engine.

"Yeah." Briar stepped out of the vehicle, and shut the door with her butt. "Hey."

The short young man gave her a wave with his free hand. The other was holding a cellphone to his ear. Briar snorted a laugh and tried to walk around him. Evan leaned in her direction, blocking her path. "Yeah, ma. I know." The man continued to ignore Briar, who nudged his shoulder with her knee. He pushed back, smirking. "Oh, really? Cool, about th- yeah? Yeah... I told you!" As the man spoke to his mother, he leaned over to push Briar out of the way. Evan lay down on the step he had been sitting on, grinning brashly at his landlady. "Yeah, ma. Love you too."

Briar frowned at him, and decided it was best to just step clear over him. She had to grip both rails on the steps to do it, and she grunted loudly as she lifted her weight across three stairs to avoid stepping on the short young man. He shut his phone.

"I saw up your shirt-" Evan was cut off by a foot to the belly. He let out an 'oof', and sat up before scrambling to stand on the steps. "-shave your back!"

"We can't all love shaving!"

Evan stomped up the stairs after her, grinning still. "That's only for _track!_" The kitchen door shut, and the femme was left alone, again.

This was starting to seem like a mistake. There was no real issue with the human, or her renters. The tall one- Joseph? - was in the garage more often than the others. He'd occasionally rub a hand over her spoiler or mirror, but she didn't mind. Tim was... eh, she had no opinion on him. She'd only seen him once, and he had a habit of talking to himself.

Allen had given her an impromptu bath about a week ago. The gesture was appreciated, but the femme had to sit still and let the charge that had built up fade out. Who'd want a post-overload femme sprawled out in their garage? Not these people... pit, _most_ people wouldn't want that. As for Evan, well, he riled Briar on a regular basis. It was hilarious, to Razor, at least.

Razor did not fit into this world. She'd been on the planet for... what was it now? Forty years? Fifty? Traveling the universe for Primus knew how many millenia before she found this little, blue marble. Packed with energon, covered in alternate modes the femme could take, and people. Lots of people. Lots of fragile, loud, easily damaged people.

No, Razor did not fit this world at all. She sank on her wheels until her bumper almost touched concrete. Briar wasn't the problem, none of these people were. It was Razor herself, as it had almost always been.

/\/\/\

Please, R&R.


	8. Out in the Rain

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or any song lyrics used within.

/\/\/\

The days following Razor's revelation were calm, if a bit... strained. While Briar had no qualms about riding inside of the femme, their conversations were, at bet, forced. _How did you sleep? Are you hungry? Do you need anything?_ Basic, if talking to a robot was basic. Then came the drop off at work. _Have fun._ That was all Razor said about work; _Have fun._ Briar didn't need to know what the femme did all day, if the femme even did anything.

Still... Razor had been polite about the whole thing. If either of them still had a problem, it was Briar, and she knew what that problem was. The woman took a deep breath, and stepped out of the kitchen, onto the garage deck. "Razor?"

Razor bobbed on her wheels. "Uh, yeah?"

Briar leaned over the wooden railing, arms crossed and elbows propping her up. "You can transform if you wanna. The guys left a while ago."

"Did they?"

"Yup. Allen has a date. Dunno where the others ran off to, just that they ran off."

The femme remained in vehicle mode. "Dunno when they'll be back?"

"I didn't ask." Briar stayed still, giving a slow blink. Well, this plan fell on its ass, didn't it? "If... you wanna stay a car-"

The car expanded into the form of a biped, and Briar was face to faceplate with Razor. "No problem, dun worry." Her bluish hands rested on either side of the humans own, but said human pulled back to look up at her, dark eyes wide with wonder. The femme lowered her hands as well, and smiled softly at the woman. When was the last time she'd gotten a look like _that_ one? "Any reason ya wanted t' see me standin'?"

"I wanted to get a better look at you... is all, uh," Briar wasn't usually one to fumble her words, but it wasn't every day that one found a robot in their garage. So many spikes! "Can I ask you stuff?"

The femme gave the human the go-ahead with a quick nod.

Briar took a steadying breath. "How many spikes do you have?"

"Forty eight. On th' dot." Razor rolled her shoulders to flex the three on each side. "They sharp, and they move wit' me. Can't lock up mid fight, y'know?" The femme rested her hands to her hips, before she looked up to the ceiling. Her tallest audio spikes didn't even reach the rafters. Good. That meant she could stretch. The femme gave her arms and back a nice, long stretch, hands laced over her helm. Her palms tapped against a rafter with a low thud. She made a face at the sound.

The human watched as Razor resumed standing, arms to her sides. Her fingers curled against the hip spikes, thumbs in the gap like they were belt loops. "Can I see your hands?"

She was a tad confused. "M' hands?" What were- Oh, duh! Hands were servos, servos were hands. Razor had forgotten that human anatomy and bot anatomy had different names. Hand worked. Razor lifted them, palms facing the human. "Go on."

Briar reached upwards with kid gloves, brows raised. She wanted to touch, but... was she allowed to? The robot had been under her butt for weeks now, but _this_ wasn't _that_. Razor made the decision for her by extending her arms toward her.

Razor let out a soft chuckle. "I don't bite, darlin'." The femme filled the gap so that bony hand met bluish servo.

Razor's palms were cool to the touch, but once the human's warmth spread across the flexible, metal plates, the warmth of mechanical life was felt. The sort of warmth one found radiating from an oven; Mechanical, not organic. Briar came to the realization that, while Razor was indeed large, she wasn't huge. She'd only seemed huge that first night, and even huger the next morning. If Briar had to guess, the femme wasn't much more than fifteen feet tall. "...You don't have pinkies."

The femme shrugged. "Dun need 'em."

With that, the human pulled her hands away, and Razor let her arms hang at her sides. Briar turned to the stairs and headed down. Her bare feet cooled on the concrete, bare as the floor under them. She wanted to get a look at the femme from the ground level.

"Er... the other night."

"Mmm?"

"When I asked you to put your hands up?" The femme nodded for the human to continue. "Why'd you do it?"

Razor blinked slowly. "You asked me to?" She sat on her aft, one knee to the sky, her other leg stretched out straight. "I'd been droppin' hints that I'd been more than a car."

"...you mean, parking crooked?"

"Crooked?"

"Yeah! You park crooked." Briar crossed her arms.

Razor stared, optics contracting. She groaned to herself, "I really am getting' old." The femme rubbed the flat of her crest, squinting a violet optic. "I meant th' music."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Not good with beginnins, as ya can tell." The femme smirked. She had hoped that she would be able to show herself in a few months, not a few weeks. Oh well, this was better. "So, how was your day?"

Briar didn't want to fall back into that routine. She didn't have work that day. "Uh... it was okay, I guess..." The nervousness she had felt around Razor had been easing from her thoughts over the first few days. She had stopped seeing the giant, frightful robot, and became more of a, well, a roommate. A big, metal, roommate. "You stretch your legs enough?" The groan that came from her legs was off-putting.

"Mm, not really. Why ya ask?"

Here went everything. "My neighbors? The only ones I have? They own the land we're on. They rent it out to farmers to use for livestock."

The robot nodded slowly.

"Well, there's a hundred or so acres back there. No one comes around and it's surrounded by woods." Briar tried to smile. "If you ever wanna go for, like, a run or something, you have room to do it without anyone seeing you."

Razor blinked and cocked her helm to the side. "...what?"

She sputtered out the rest. "Well this garage is kinda small and I've only seen you like this one other time-"

"Briar," Razor's audios twisted about before aiming at the human. "inhale."

The human did as asked, more than embarrassed that she'd been wound up by a simple offer. Maybe she wasn't getting past how nervous the femme made her.

The bluish robot nodded before leaning downwards. She perched herself on her hands and bent her elbows to get closer to the human. They were at eye level as the femme soothed, "In, and out. Can't have you hyperventilating, can we, darlin'?" Razor's smile was filled with humor. The nervous human was cute, in the way a scared animal was; cute, in a sad way. "That's better. Now then," Her smile turned into a grin, showing her fang filled maw. "Where is this place for a femme to stretch?"

/\/\/\

R&R


	9. Parsecs don't work that way

Disclaimer: I don't own TF:P or any lyrics used within.

Also, moo-cows.

/\/\/\

Well, this place was certainly a treat. Acres of munched grass over hilly land, enclosed with an electric fence. Not bad, not at all. Razor flexed her pedes in the grass, hands to her hips. "Sweet."

"Yeah?" asked the human several yards away. Briar had hoped to give her large room mate some running room. Judging by the smile she sported, this was exactly what the femme needed.

Cracking her shoulders, Razor gave Briar a nod. "Sweet indeed." This was a perfect chance to do something she hadn't done in who knew how long; show off.

The femme hopped from pede to pede, left behind right, then side by side, and right behind left in a wide box shape. She taunted her invisible adversary, before planting her claws into the earth and swinging her legs above her, before bringing them down. Her stomach faced the darkening sky, frame bent into an arching bridge. Grass tickled her audios. "Ya can prolly go under me, no problem."

Briar pulled a face with a soft shake of her head. "Yeah, I'd rather not."

Razor scoffed, before lifting her left arm and leg. "Suit yourself." Her left leg lifted into the air, and she grasped her left ankle to form an L-kick. The femme smirked and held her pose, before coming down on both hands. She cartwheeled once, twice, and stopped on her hands. "Not bad, eh?"

Briar fought a snort. "Not bad." A cartwheeling robot was hard to not laugh at.

The femme wasn't graceful, she was hefty. Able to do some fancy moves, but it was all labored by her weight. It seemed like it had been far too many eons since Razor had done a backwards handspring. It was evidenced by her awkward wobble and consequent crash into the ground, legs bent under her. The femme blinked slowly, and peered at the dull-purple sky. She was only half sure that being able to view the sky meant she was, indeed, facing upwards. Almost as sure as she was that her legs weren't damaged by landing on them.

"Razor!" Briar ran to the femme's side, brows almost in her hairline. The femme didn't reply, even as she came close to her body. Her optics were shut, and her face was slack. Oh shit, she'd passed out! "Razor, come on. Get up!"

Razor cracked a brightened optic. "Naw. 's comfy." That got her a kick to the elbow. "Dun scratch the paint now, darlin'!" Rolling away to sit, she pushed herself into a sitting position. No blows to her ego.

"What in the pit?" The femme's gaze lifted, staring at the hill.

"What's wrong?"

Razor shushed Briar with a wave of her hand. "Somethin's comin'..." She planted her pedes shoulder width apart and raised her left arm, the fingertips spreading a little, claws jutting out like those of a cat. Her right arm reached behind her back and pulled out a flanged mace. "Briar, get behind me an' get ready to run."

Sudden, cold fear and adrenalin surged to life within the human's veins. "Why? What's coming?"

"I'm... not sure. But there's a lot of them and they is comin' up fast!" She was ready for it, but her mind didn't want to pay attention as it rewound and played back- _They were coming to hurt her again and again and she was stuck to a wall. She felt them coming at her like so many times before, when they'd taken her, and now she was free to retaliate. Razor raised her mace high above her head. The grounder screamed as she bared her fangs at his wide, innocent, brown eyed- _wait one pit-slagging parsec.

The femme blinked, frozen. "...cattle." Those... were not Decepticons. Briar's hand was resting against her leg plating, and Razor fought the urge to flinch. The human had pulled her out of then and back into the now, and the now happened to be cows. How it worked slipped her mind, as long as she wasn't back there.

What was with the femme and cows?

The human and the transformer were face to face with a heard of thirty or so dairy cows. They stared at Briar, ears flicking at flies and tails lashing about. There were a few calves, no more than a week old, among the cows, all knobbly knees and bright eyes, staying well away from the front of the herd.

"Aww." Briar did in fact adore baby cows. She'd bottle fed several calves at county fairs, and knew that mommy cows were not fond of humans touching their babies. A fat, gray cow stuck out her tongue, picking her nose and blinked an eye. Her calf inched forward, before deciding it was better off hiding behind its mother. "Hehe, cute."

Above the woman's head, Razor dictated quietly to herself. "Milky way, solar system, Earth, North America, Pennsylvania, Sunbury."

The human looked up. "Eh?"

Oh good, she hadn't heard it. "Nothin'..." The femme waved it off. Another calf, this one fluffy as could be and brown as mud, took a few brave, wobble steps towards the femme. Razor took a step backwards, and the calf turned tail and hid within the fold of its herd.

"Why'd you back up? Do cows freak you out?"

Razor huffed. "No!" Cows had been the ones to keep stupid people from keying every expletive in the book into her paint job!

The grin on the human's face spelled out she didn't buy it. "You're scared of a bu-bunch of moo-cows!" Briar giggled, arms around her stomach as she doubled over.

"I ain't scared of no cows!" shouted the femme as her voice broke down into giggling, and then flat-out guffawing. The sound was loud, and awkward, and it only served to send the two into a feedback loop of laughter. The cattle, sensing no dangers to their calves or themselves, ambled away into the darkening pasture below.

/\/\/\

Deep in the recesses of an old missile silo, Ratchet narrowed his optics at the glowing, green dot on the screen. Beside it, almost on top of it, was a smaller dot. They both flashed at differing rates, the larger dot flashing slower than the other. As he watched the dots, the larger one blinked, and went out. The smaller dot kept flashing as if nothing had happened... and, maybe nothing had.

He turned to look over his shoulder. "Optimus, you'll want to see this," called the red and white medibot. His leader strode to his side, brows drawn in slightly. "There seems to be a something roaming around on the other side of the country. Pennsylvania, to be precise."

All the Prime could see were the many dots indicating animals, and one dot indicating a human life. "I don't understand."

The medic made a face to himself, fingertips bouncing about the keys below to zoom in. "There's a signal that has been appearing on and off, for the last, er," he grunted. "I'm not sure how long." The signal would pop up for a moment or so, and disappear again. For all he knew, it was just his being a bit paranoid over the recent quiet in Decepticon activity. Ratchet had only noticed the signal a few days prior. The second he tried getting a lock on it the signal was gone. "It's hard to get a trace on the signal. I can't tell where its exact location is, or what it is."

Optimus hummed, frowning. "Record any information you can, old friend. When there is enough to go by, we will investigate."

/\/\/\

More to come. Please R&R.


	10. In All My Dreams, I Drown

Guys, I'm sorry I've been away for so long. College got me all tied up and then there was writer's block to deal with, then job hunting, then... just being a lazy lump. Here, this chapter is going to get the story moving... kinda.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

/\/\/\

Time had crept along since the incident in the field. Not enough to prevent giggles from the human when it was remembered, but enough time for Razor to chuckle at it as well. The usual small talk had continued as it had beforehand. There was a usual lull that came on that straight stretch of road next to the river. The tiny islands dotting the shallow water jolted Razor to speak. "Briar," the femme started in a halting tone. "You have any batteries?"

Briar squinted at the rear-view mirror in question. "Batteries?"

"Mhmm."

The woman held the wheel firm as the femme took the turn that lead to her work. "Why?"

"Need 'em."

Briar's brows wrinkled and sank in confusion. "You need batteries?"

"For fuel."

"I though you ate, er..." She fumbled. What was her fuel called? "Anacreon?"

The femme's soft sigh wafted from the speakers. "Energon. Stuff I manage t' scrounge ain't good for much more than weaponry. Gotta do some scrap to it afore I can fuel on it."

Weapons. Briar had seen the... weird stick thing that the femme had when she had been startled by the cows, but how did that need the aide of energon? "I'll grab some at work. We sell them cheap as dirt."

Razor pulled into the parking lot of the Street of Shops, easing to a halt near the back door. "Dun go buyin' 'em. Grab up some duds if you can. Dun need many." She popped open the driver's door. "Outcha go, darlin'."

The lanky human stepped out of the vehicle, and headed into the building, giving a wave behind her. Part of her wanted to tell Razor to stop calling her darling, but thought best to let it be. No harm done. Another day began in the low roofed basement, and by the end of that day, Briar had a pocket full of change and button cells.

Briar stepped out into the parking lot, warm sunset orange warming her bare arms. It was a shame she couldn't have enjoyed it, but truthfully the woman hadn't much to enjoy, seeing that Marley was out of town for... something. Could have been a game, she hadn't really been paying attention. Robots were a little more interesting than her love life.

Razor pulled into the parking lot, right up alongside the human. Briar plopped into the seat, and promptly dumped the batteries onto the opposing seat. "Eh, got enough of them?" They were all there were. A bunch of watches had to have batteries replaced the other day, so a little picking around wasn't a problem.

"Should be enough for today, I'm hopin'," replied Razor as she took the road that lead to the water. Briar's buttocks tensed up like their first drive together, when it occurred that they weren't heading home. "Lax, darlin'. Jus' taking you t' my ship. That's all." Didn't need Briar having a panic attack.

The woman nodded, relaxing in the drivers seat. They drove on in companionable silence, a song playing quietly on the radio. Razor drove along the pretty river for some time before turning onto a steeps, dirt path. "Uh-"

"Pick up ya feet."

Briar's brows cocked upwards at the rear-view mirror. The shallow river was coming closer and closer as the challenger slowed down. The human didn't like this. "What?"

"Feet! Lift 'em if you wanna keep 'em dry!" Razor hit the water with a splashing hiss, and drove on until she was near fully submerged. In the driver's seat, a human was clawing at the door handle. "Easy! I wouldn't be bringin' ya if I was gonna implode!" The didn't ease Briar at all. Come on, the femme's ship had survived the vacuum of space, and she'd had to do outside repairs in the middle of that inky black void of cold. A little water wouldn't make her crack!

Briar's pounding stopped when the murky water began to seep into her shoes, and she clambered to pull them up into the seat.

"Warned ya."

"Shut it."

The femme cranked on the heater, blasting Briar with the very warmth of her internals. "M'kay." Her smile was heard in her words.

"...How'd you not short out?" Briar wiggled into the seat as her bare arms were buffeted by the mechanical heat. It was comfortable, if a little brain breaking. Hot air in a robot that was a car underwater... no, her brain didn't like it.

"Ain't electric. Ain't got electric runnin' in me. Just a femme rollin' in the deep."

"Long as you're not a Dell."

A chuckle rippled through the car. "Was that a pun?" The femme drove up to the island where her ship had been hidden, headlights glancing off of the mirrored exterior. A wide section of the ship retracted upwards, and the pitch black interior of the _Hanlon_ was bathed in Razor's headlights.

Briar frowned, swallowing as many, tiny lights came on in the sudden blackness before them. "You started it."

The ship's door shut behind the two, water leaking from Razor's doors. Briar stepped out, feet cold and shoes squelching while the femme transformed carefully behind her.

"Well, here it is, the-" Razor went silent, and wiggled her hips a bit. She made a face that made wrinkles deepen around her mouth and under her optics. She reached into her left side with thumb and foreclaw, and there was a crinkling of plastic as the bag the held batteries. "There we are." She dropped the bag onto a shelf behind her. "As I was sayin', this is The Hanlon. Baby's almost as old as me."

"Wait. Just how old are you?" Asked the human at her knee.

The femme's optics dimmed and contracted slightly. "Uh... hmm..." Counting on her hands didn't help much. She really wasn't sure on an exact number. Not in human terms, but Briar wouldn't know what Vorns or Orns were. Razor shrugged. "Ain't sure. It's a biggun."

Briar scoffed. "Are you gonna tell me anything about yourself?"

She blinked. "Er... what's there t' know? Y' got th' basics! Alien robot that can transform into a car. Goes by Razor, ex warrior."

"...ex?" Then what was the weapon for?

Vents clamped shut in shock. Oops. "Yeah. Ex. As in, not no more." The femme spun on her left pede, and plucked two batteries from the bag before dropping them into a square compartment to her right. Under the compartment was a long tube that held a grayish-blue fluid. It glowed faintly, the glow growing stronger when the tiny discs sunk to the bottom. "Mmm..." Razor squinted an optic.

The human wasn't getting the view she wanted, and decided on climbing into one of the large chairs near the femme. For once, Briar felt short. She was used to feeling small, but short? No, not ever.

Watching Briar climb into the chair in her peripheral vision, Razor grasped the top of the chair and spun it to face her. The action sent Briar onto her side, arms spread out to stop her body from crashing to the floor. "Ow."

"Ya hurt?"

"Eh." Briar stood in the seat to watch, stifling a yawn behind one, lean hand. Razor dropped a third battery into the mix.

"And..." The fluid hissed and bubbled, its glow brightening akin to a freshly cracked glow stick. Razor smiled, lifting a brow at the human. "Gonna havta move. I gotta sit there t' fuel up." The woman nodded numbly and picked her way to the floor. Razor took the seat, and pressed a sequence of buttons at her left.

Prepping a needle as thick as a chopstick, the femme relaxed her arm, and the catheter slid into view between the gaps in her armor. The hook up was easy, but the wait time was... well, boring. Very boring. "Gonna be a short refuel. Maybe 'n hour." The femme turned to smirk at the human, only for it to melt into a soft smile. Briar's eyes were drifting closed as she sat in the copilot's chair. "Tired, darling?" receiving a bleary blink in response, Razor chuckled. She clicked on her speakers, and pulled up a song from her personal files.

_The ship, it swayed, heave-ho, heave ho,_

_on the dark and stormy blue,_

_and I held tight to the captains might,_

_as he pulled up his trews..._

It didn't take long before Briar was asleep, head pillowed on her arm, sprawled haphazardly on the chair. The femme sat in the chair beside her, smirk melting to a flat line of near neutrality. The human's breathing was deep and even, she had been asleep before the song was half done. Razor perched her helm in her free palm, optics dimmed. What was it like, to sleep without the fear of nightmares? How rough had her day been that she was tired so soon? What exactly was Briar's job in that place, anyway? She'd ask when there was a chance, but for now, she leaned back in her pilot's chair. Her helm rested to one side, optics still locked on Briar.

The hour passed, as always. Energon circulated and filtered about in Razor's tubing. New replaced old, and the femme shifted at the discomfort in her discharge tank. Full already? It hadn't even been five feedings! Disconnecting from the feeding line, the catheter slid away and hid under her plating. Razor cracked her shoulders, the spikes shifting to allow her movement.

She stood and turned to see if Briar had moved, but the human was still sleeping, soundly. The femme watched a second longer, and opened a side door to empty her discharge tank.

The door was shut for all of thirty seconds, when something buzzed at Briar's hip. The woman groggily sat up and fumbled for her cell phone. She slid her thumb across the touch screen, and held it to the shell of her ear. "Ugh, hello?" she stifled a yawn, wondering how long she'd been asleep. The voice on the other end was one hell of a wake-up call. "Hey!"

A clawed hand reached around the crack in the doorway, and the human peered over to meet a single optic. Razor's gaze flicked to the phone, and the door shut once more.

"Sorry, what?" The human swallowed the dryness of her throat. "Uh, n-no, I'm free."

Razor came out of the room, tanks cleared and body flowing with the altered fuel. She sat, chin in one hand, smirking at the human.

"Yeah, how's- oh. Okay, six? Six." Briar nodded. "I'll save it to my phone, okay? Th-...okay, bye!" She hesitated a second, two, before ending the call.

The femme, now all but vibrating with the new energy from a fuel up and a clean out, quirked her helm to one side. "Mm? What was that about?"

"Eh, not much," The woman gave Razor a half smile, stuffing the phone back into her pocket. "I've got a date Sunday."

/\/\/\

I can't apologize enough for being gone so long. I hope I still have a couple readers left.


	11. Hit the Ground

I can assure you all that I have not abandoned this story. It's about halfway done, though. I've been busy with a new job, and actual novel planning. So, fanfiction take a backseat to that. Bear with me, I'm not done with you guys yet.

Disclaimor: I don't own Transformers in any way, shape, or form.

/\/\/\

If at any time, Razor, in her long life cycle, had seen less enthusiasm put into ones appearance, it would have to have been Briar when she was dressed for a date. The femme had to admit, really, that the human was a tad more... well, _something_, in a gray, turtleneck sweater. Not much more, but enough to notice the change. "Lookin' good."

"Yeah?" The woman had turned herself about to examine her aft, but the femme didn't get why. Briar smoothed a few wrinkles in her shirt, pulling it down so that the front was pulled down with it. She made a face before turning to Razor, still in car form. "Should I tuck my shirt in for this?"

"Why ask me?" She didn't know anything about human fashions, let alone human dating rituals. They weren't much different than the ones on Cybertron from the little she did understand, but she really wasn't the one to be asking.

A soft huff and mild eye roll were her reply.

The femme tried again. "I dun wear clothin'. Most I wear's a coat o' dust or mud."

"Don't remind me. You're a pain in the ass to clean."

Razor sank on her wheels with a soft creak, trying to sound as wounded as she could. "Says th' woman who's washed me all of twice."

"I've washed you a dozen times!"

"Ya call that big tube down th' road a washin'? It's like getting' hit with a dead squid." Truthfully, she enjoyed the car wash, they just tended to be loud for her. Razor wasn't a fan of loud.

The woman was back to examining herself, going back and forth from heel to toe in an attempt to have a good look at her butt. "You're a girl...right?" Briar asked, brows furrowed. Well, Razor at least sorta sounded like a girl.

Razor bobbed on her wheels. "In a sense. Kinda complicated how it works. Don't matter, I'm female enough." At least enough to consider herself a female in the eyes of humans. "When's your date again?"

The human was bent over now, using her short fingernails to try and get a good part in her hair. What was right for tonight; down the middle, or to one side? She had no idea and it was annoying the hell out of her. The was using the femme's window to check her hair.

"Over here, darlin'," the femme's divers side mirror tilted upwards with a mechanical whirr. Briar turned and went back to fiddling with her hair. "Whatcha tryin' t' do?"

"Make a part."

"What sorta part?"

An agitated sigh, "A hair part."

"Hmm... off center, to the right."

"What?"

"Ya wanted t' make a part and ya gone done five ways since you started fidgeting."

The human was still for a few moments, and tilted her head downward to attempt the part Razor had suggested.

"When's th' date?" She asked again.

"Seven thirty. Why?"

A tense pause. "It was seven twenty about twelve seconds ago-"

"Shit!" Her hair long forgotten and her her thin fingers flinging open the door, Briar lunged inside of the challenger and hit the button for the garage. "Gogogogogo!"

Razor chuckled. "Briar, calm down."

"I'm gonna be late!"

"Your beau will understand, darlin'." But she floored it, anyway.

Briar's hands grasped the wheel tight enough to leech the color from her knuckles.

"Where's th' date, anyway?"

"Uh... uh, um..."

Razor slowed at the yellow light up ahead of her, only to change her mind and plow through it. Her friend was already tightly wound and on edge from the mere idea of being late. "Briar, I need t' know where I'm goin."

"B-Bucknell University."

"Ah, a college student." The smile could be heard in the femme's voice. Briar did not calm.

"Athlete. Jock."

"Oh." It was obvious Briar wasn't up for talking about her beau. Razor had thought -no, she had _hoped_- that she and the woman would be closer than that. It seemed that wasn't the case. The rest of the drive went on in silence, all twenty minutes of it.

The femme pulled into the parking lot nearest the dorms, and idled quietly. Briar had, again, started checking her hair. With a quiet grunt, Razor cranked her air to full blast and aimed a steam of warm air at her face. "The hell!"

Razor chuckled at her. "Ya look fine, darlin'."

"I did, until you screwed up my hair."

"Oh, hush. You act like I ruined your makeup."

"Might have! ...if I wore any."

"No makeup?"

"I don't use it, unless I need to."

"Y'all still lookin' good."

Briar's dark blue gaze flicked to the rear view mirror. "...yeah?"

Razor opened her door. "Yup. Out ya go, darlin'. I'll stay here when you're done."

"Uh, I could spend the night, you know."

"Eh. I've slept under th' stars before. No big. Good luck." She planned to take a stasis nap until her friend opened her doors again. The femme locked her doors, and settled for the night ahead.

/

_The seeker's curled fist collided with her intact optic with a sickening crunch, and all was dark. Razor's arm was hanging on by the wires and she was flailing about, now fully blind. The bluish femme kicked with all her might, and heard glass crack. Razor lurched forward, optics flickering once before burning out completely. Down an arm, blind, and half mad from pain with no way out._

_The seeker screamed himself, stumbling back and arms cradling his canopy. "You fragging GLITCH! You..." He was shaking so hard that the edge of the knife bit into his armor, and the Seeker stared at the blade, growling. The grounder was too busy laughing to do anything, and even if he wasn't, the glint of madness in the orange Seeker's optics would have been enough to still him. "You stubborn, self-righteous GLITCH!" The seeker yelled again, just before he buried the knife in Razor's knee, severing another limb. "AND YOU!" he added, turning and backhanding the laughing grounder. "YOU were in charge of securing her!"_

"_Kah! Blame me for your own injuries? This Razor's had the better of you since she woke up!" The grounder growled, grabbing the knife out of the Autobot's knee and growling at The seeker. The Seeker didn't even hesitate, raising his arm and shooting at the grounder, who barely threw himself out of the way in time. "Fighting me on the ground, are you?" The grounder said, tackling The seeker._

_Razor's good side tugged at the restraints, dropping her sloppily to the floor. Her bad arm slipped free, and the bottom half of her leg ripped off, leaking badly. No screams this time. Razor wasn't there anymore. Rage had taken control. The femme crawled and grabbed the distracted grounder by the back of the neck, squeezing until-_

The pummeling of organic fists against her window, and sharp tugging at her driver's door handle are the feeling Razor woke up to. She almost transformed right there as the nightmares hadn't fully faded away. "Milky way, solar system, Earth, Nor-" Her new mantra stopped halfway on her glossa as she realized just what was happening. "Briar?"

Briar was screaming and slapping her hands against the driver's side door hard enough to rattle the window. "Open th' door! Hurry!"

Razor flung open the door and felt the human's frail body collide with her interior, and floored it in reverse when she did. "Go! Drive! Drive!" Briar's heartbeat was accelerated to a hundred beats a minute with her limbs spread about on the seats. She dug her fingers into the soft parts of the challenger as if some force would rip her away.

After a minute of driving double the speed limit, Razor slowed herself down, trundling along the dark road. "...Briar?" she asked quietly. The woman gave no answer save for her panting and wild heartbeat. The femme pulled onto the shoulder. "Briar, ya gotta calm down, m'kay?"

But the woman was covering her face, and her breathing refused to slow down. It was the only noise the sentient vehicle. "Briar, talk t' me." Razor was starting to feel uncomfortable the entire situation. Running down the sidewalk, terrified. Screaming and pounding thin fists against the femme's windows. What happened on Briar's date?

"...take me home."

The femme tried again. What in the pit happened? Why'd she been so scared? "Br-"

"_Take me home_." She curled into the passengers seat, shaking as she lowered into the seat. "Please, please, just take me home." Briar's voice was hardly a whisper above the silence within the vehicle.

Razor, as confused and distressed as she could be, remained silent. She turned on her heater, played white noise on her radio, and drove home in the dark.

/\/\/\

R&R. More at some point in the future.


	12. Always Midnight

Disclaimer: I don't own TFP.

/\/\/\

Gravel crunched under tires in the dark. The light activated above Briar's garage. The human, who hadn't so much as budged since begging to be taken home, pushed the button to the garage door.

Briar climbed out of the femme before she'd come to a full stop. Razor transformed into bipedal mode, settling on her knees as quietly as her pointy frame would allow. "Briar, what the pit was that about?"

"Drop it."

"Excuse me?"

"Razor, leave it alone." She turned to the stairs.

The femme blinked. "Briar."

Briar finally turned to face the femme, with a shout. "What?!"

The robot stared at her friend, a large amount of discomfort mounting behind her chest plate at the sight of the humans darkened, puffed eye. "Briar. What is that?"

Briar refused to look Razor in the optics, tucking her hands under her arms. "It's... it's a black eye. It happens." It wasn't as though a stupid robot would understand what was going on. No one _really_ understood. They just didn't get Marley. Sometimes Briar did something that'd set off that ugly temper, and if she got a bruise, fine then.

Razor made a sound. Not the rev of her engine, not a growl, but somewhere in between. An unhappy sound, at either rate. "I _know_ what a black eye is, Briar, _and_ I know how y' get 'em..." In the space of the garage, Razor turned from a sitting position to a kneeling one, knees to the concrete and balanced on her right forearm. "What happened?"

The woman crossed her arms over her flat chest, frown deepening. "What d'you think? I was _late_." Briar had not fully grasped the fact that her former car and current friend - in spite of her snarky attitude and laid back nature- was an unsafe individual.

Razor resisted a growl, her secondary audio synthesizer whirring a tad under her primary one. That old reflex had to get put in check before she blew out a window. The femme raised her left arm slowly, fingers curled. Briar still refused to look at her, which didn't help to put the femme at ease. "Briar... y'need t' tell me what happened. This ain't right..." Far more gently that many would guess, Razor ghosted her friend's right cheek with a knuckle. "...please?"

The woman, thin as a rail and half as strong, finally met the femme's optics with a cobalt glare. "Marley has a temper. I get hit. It _happens_."

There was a moment of silence, and for the first time since she had known the femme, Razor was a monster to Briar. Her violet optics darkened, almost gone under her visor. "Y' tellin' me this ain't new?"

She slammed her shoulder on Razor's palm to try and push her away. The femme recoiled but did not back off completely. Fucking robot didn't understand humans at all. Marley wasn't a bad person! "I-it's no big deal!" Was being angry a crime or something? It wasn't like it was a daily occurrence, not even weekly. The two only hung out enough that a bruise or a sprain were just... rare. It wasn't anything serious if it only happened now and then!

The femme snarled, showing her friend her rather knife-like fangs. "Oh, lemme guess, y' try to protect yourself, and he hits you harder?" Razor was not stupid, and she had a temper herself. That didn't mean she went about hitting people she was supposed to care about to let off steam! War was one thing, this was another! She continued, optics flickering. "You try t' cool 'im down, he calls y' so many awful things that ya _crumble_, I gettin' it right?"

The human's breathing hitched, blinking her glassy eyes. Razor was the hammer pounding the truth into her head. A truck ambled near the house. It should have taken a left if it were Carl's truck, but it grew louder. Whoever it was was coming up the driveway.

Briar's eyes went wide at the sound. She knew that sound.

Razor's audio spikes swiveled with her helm toward the door. "That's him, ain't it?" Asked the femme.

The woman curled into herself, showing how terrified she truly was as she tried not to sink to the floor. "..._he's_ a _she_," Briar muttered.

The truck grew closer, the crunch of gravel under the tires deafening in the silence of the garage. "...a woman." Not a question needing clarification, but a statement that clarified the secrecy of their relationship. No wonder she didn't want Razor to stick around; she was scared of ridicule! Well... couldn't let the human think it changed things. Her gaze settled back to the woman, her hands clamped over her mouth.

"Yeah..." Briar shuffled against the wall to make herself as small as she could. "I don't want you to go out there with her," she murmured as her voice climbed in pitch, exposing her terror. She knew that terror too well. Over a year of it and this was what she knew. Marley hadn't come to the house before. They always met at the dorms. Pennsylvania wasn't exactly a liberal state.

"That glitch can't hurt me." From her hood came a beam of bluish light, and to Briar's shock and confusion, there was a person standing there. A woman, in a blue jacket and black pants looked down at her, frowning. Her hair was pitch black, spiked, and she had to stand at least five foot eight. "Stay put." With that said, the hologram walked by Briar's coiled form and phased through the side door.

Razor's holo walked down the brick pathway to the front of the garage, boots crunching the gravel and getting the attention of the woman in the red pick up. The holo raised a studded brow at who came out of the vehicle. Well... not really what she was expecting.

Marley stood a bit less than the holo's height, and was rippling with muscle. She was built like a goddamn tank, a jock just as Briar described so shortly. Her hair was dark brown and pulled back into a sloppy bun. "Who are you?" asked the thick woman.

The holo crossed her arms. "Got a problem, ma'am?"

Marley stepped up the driveway, snorting. "Damn right there is, hick."

"Name ain't hick, now why are ya here?" If that's how she wanted to play, then they would damn well play.

That temper Briar had whimpered about flared in her gray eyes, beefy fists clenching as one hand raised to her face. The jock pointed a stubby nail her way, Razor pulling back instinctively. "The hell are you?"

She pushed the jock's hand away with a leather clad forearm. "Name's Razor. Here cuz a friend o mine asked me to be. What's your excuse?" The holo crossed her arms over her chest. Powerful limbs and speed made up for Marley's stature. Lacrosse player, if she recalled it correctly, and a damn good hook if Briar's face was to be proof.

"Came for my girlfriend."

"That so?"

"I stutter?"

"Might. Mind openin' ya mouth to talk instead of mumbling like a mental patient?" The longer she stalled, the better chances there were of Marley just shouting and heading home. No need for punches to be thrown.

That was off the table, it seemed. Marley took a swing at her, full force, perfect form, probably with enough force to break her jaw... had Razor a jaw to break. The holo ducked left and glowered when the jock's hammy fist met the garage door with a resounding, painful thud. Briar made a soft yelp from behind the door. Poor baby was scared shitless, even with a giant robot and a competent holo between her and her mate! Razor straightened up, arms at her sides. Marley was nursing her inflamed hand. "Not gonna try that again, eh?"

She didn't. Marley opted to slamming her weight into the door and pounding it like a cop searching for a fugitive. "Briar! Get out here and call off this shit!"

Razor growled, stepping in front of the runt of a human. "Don't fuckin' talk t' her. Ya dealin' with me now," she growled. "Y'wanna get t' her, y' gotta get through me." By the Allspark, she meant it.

Marley barked a laugh without humor. "Hell you say?"

"Go on, runt. Put y' hand on me. See how far y' get."

"Fuckin'- outta the way!" shouted the woman, swinging an open hand at Razor in an attempt to startle her out of the way. It didn't work.

The holo bent her head down to look the jock in the eyes. "Gonna havta move me if y' wanna get by me, runt." On the word 'runt', Marley ran headlong into the holo, attempting to slam her into the garage door.

Just what she needed. Razor gripped the woman's left arm and wrenched it behind her back. Soon as her feet planted in the earth, Razor snatched part of the jock's shirt and the seat of her pants. With a shout and a discus turn, she hurtled Marley across the driveway, clearing the pickup completely. There was the sound of a body hitting gravel, and the holo stood, poised, ready for more. A few seconds passed, filled with groaning and shuffling, before that beast of a human female stood up, covered in gray dust.

"Bring it," said the holo coolly. "I'm not even tired, y'think you can take me alone and ya got tossed." But Marley was climbing into her pick up and struggling to start it.

The jock leaned out of the driver's window, giving the holo the finger. She then floored it and spun around, racing for the road. Gravel flew out behind her as she drove.

Grinning, the holo turned her back, returning the finger. Marley peeled out of sight and barreled down the road, taillights fading away. "Pug-faced little..." The femme shut down the holo, before flickering back on inside the garage. "Briar, you-"

The woman was sitting against the wall, head to her knees. She was shaking, badly. Razor was on her knees immediately, trying to get closer to her friend. She knew this feeling all too well; old terror. When the femme reached out to touch her, Briar jumped and started audibly weeping. The femme was at a loss of what to do. "Briar?"

The human didn't speak, but managed to peer up at the holo, her black eye three shades darker than before. It seemed that crying didn't help a black eye.

"C'mon. I'll help ya get inside." Razor reached out, slowly, to touch the human again, only to have Briar rear her head up and stare, breathing heavily. "Shh... it's me, honey." Briar's lower lip was drawn into her mouth to prevent trembling. They weren't getting anywhere. The woman was still convinced that she was going to get a beating.

It hit the femme like a brick to a window. Of course Briar didn't know what to do with her, she'd never seen the holo before tonight! Razor 's holo stayed picture still, before erupting into a pulsing mass of bright blue pixels and waves. The holo now looked like Razor in her bipedal form, save that the giant robot was now human sized. "Does this help any?" Primus, she hoped it did.

The woman blinked, her anguish replaced slowly by confusion. "What the hell..." Briar coughed, and blinked the tears from her eyes. "What is this?"

The femme's faceplate was awash with relief as she smiled. "Hologram. Good fer trickin' people." It wasn't much to change the holo. Despite her desire to, she couldn't transform and hurl Marley into the cattle field. Razor tried again to reach out a hand, which Briar took. Her hands were freezing and damp, face flushed and streaked with tears. "C'mon." Gently, the human was on her feet, an arm slung around the femme's spiked shoulders.

The woman peered down at her friend. "What if someone's in the kitchen?"

Razor smiled at her. "Dun worry. Your boys are down below." Her audios swiveled, one aimed at the kitchen, the other at the basement door. Music thrummed against the basement walls. If those humans _had_ heard anything, they were ignoring it. Razor, ever mindful of the woman wrapped around her neck and shoulders, nudged open the door to the kitchen with her knee.

/\/\/\

To be continued.


End file.
